


Scars

by emilysmortimer



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25542895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilysmortimer/pseuds/emilysmortimer
Summary: Set after Election Night IIA lot has changed; she hopes that doesn’t bother him
Relationships: Will McAvoy/MacKenzie McHale
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	Scars

She’s awake before him. The abundance of windows and distinct lack of shades is a stark contrast to her own apartment, and so she rises with the sun, careful not to wake him. If he feels half as exhausted as she does, then she’s certain he needs the sleep. 

After tugging on a robe that she finds in his closet, she quietly makes her way into the kitchen and brews herself a pot of coffee. 

Mug in hand, Mackenzie finds herself snooping through the cupboards, trying to acquaint herself with the place. She’s only seen it once before, and the urgency of the situation didn’t allow her time to look around. 

It lacks a homely feel, which doesn’t surprise her. Since their break up, Will’s lost his love of sentimentality, and, to an outsider, it probably looks as if no one even lives here. There’s no family photographs, no plants or ornaments, just the basic furniture. They haven’t had time to talk about what happens next, but if they intend to stay in this apartment, she’ll be certain to spruce the place up a bit. Photographs, and new blankets, and throw cushions that she knows he’ll despise. 

She settles on the couch and takes her time drinking her coffee, savouring the bitter taste. Retrieving her phone, she updates herself on what’s been going on in the world while she was asleep (which isn’t much, as it turns out), before letting her eyes slip shut and getting lost in her thoughts. 

Last night feels like a dream, the dramatic change in events having given her emotional whiplash. But after years of wishing for Will to forgive her, Mackenzie finds herself overcome with joy. He loves her, he never stopped, he wants her to be his wife. The heavy rock on her finger is a constant reminder. 

She never thought she’d feel this happy again. 

There’s a million and one things they still need to discuss, and she’s sure when Will wakes up, they’ll make a start. But she feels safe in the knowledge that these conversations will only better their relationship, rather than tear them apart again. 

Draining the last of her coffee, Mackenzie takes her mug through to the kitchen and places it in the sink. She traipses back through to the bedroom, a slight smile playing on her lips as she watches him. 

He’s naked from the waist up, the bed sheets pulled down to his hips, his bare back exposed to her. She’s missed this sight; Will Mcavoy, fast asleep, his hair slightly unkempt, his lips parted ever so slightly. He looks carefree. It’s a sight she could get used to all over again. 

Careful not to wake him, she tiptoes to the side of the bed. Bending slightly, Mackenzie gently rakes her fingers through his hair and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

She leaves him once again, makes her way through to the bathroom, not before grabbing herself a clean towel, and turns on the shower. She rids herself of the robe, hangs it on the back of the door, sheds the rest of her clothes before tying her up in a messy ponytail. It feels strange to be naked in his - their - bathroom. It’s been a while. She feels slightly self conscious, which is silly, she knows. But still. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” His voice is hoarse with sleep, and she startles slightly at the intrusion. He’d been asleep only minutes ago, and she hadn’t expected him to rise for a while. 

Mackenzie smiles as she turns towards him. Her cheeks flush slightly as she becomes aware of her nudity, which again, is silly considering the amount of times he’s seen her naked. But her body’s changed since he last saw her like this; she has wrinkles in places she didn’t before, she’s slightly chubbier around the hips, and the scar. 

That goddamn scar. 

She can sense the moment he notices it, deep blue eyes widening slightly, a barely audible breath akin to a gasp rising from the back of his throat, and he fixates on the jagged raise on her abdomen that definitely wasn’t there when he last looked. 

Self conscious, her arms cross over her chest. Mackenzie’s never particularly had a problem with the way she looks; she knows she’s lucky to have been blessed with long legs and a slim figure. But the way he’s looking at her makes her nervous, and she wants to run, wants to hide, wants to disappear. 

Will walks towards her. Slow, cautious steps, as if he’s afraid she’ll run if he moves any faster. 

He reaches for her hands, lowers her arms, uses the index finger of his right hand to trace the scar. An involuntary shudder wracks her body. She gasps. She’s afraid of what will come next. 

Will grasps her hand with one of his own, uses the other to tip her chin up so he’s looking into her eyes. The concern shining in his own bring tears to hers. It’s been a long time since he’s looked at her with such love and care, and it’s almost too much to handle. She’s become so used to him looking at her with nothing but hatred that anything else seems strange. Overwhelming.

He pulls her to him then, his arms encircling her hips, and she lets out a gentle sigh as her head comes to rest against his chest. 

“If you hadn’t made it back, I’d never have forgiven myself”, he whispers against her ear. 

His words break her. Tears begin to flow freely down her cheeks, a strangled sob rising from her throat, escaping from her lips. He holds her tighter, glad she can’t see the tears that shimmer in his own eyes. 

They’ve been so stupid, wasted so much time. Looking back now, Will wishes he’d handled things differently. Perhaps if he’d listened to her rather than verbally abuse her and then kick her out as if she’d meant nothing to him, things would be different. Perhaps they’d already be married, living in a beautiful house with their children. Perhaps they could’ve spent the years prior being happy instead of absolutely miserable. Perhaps she wouldn’t have sent herself to a war zone as some kind of sick punishment and almost gotten herself killed in the process. 

He holds her while she cries, whispers sweet nothings in her ear until the tears subside. He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, then one to her lips as she lifts her head. He uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away the stray tears on her cheek. He’s so gentle with her, nothing like the absolute ass he’s been since she started at ACN. 

“I love you”, he tells her, smiling when she repeats the sentiment. They’ll talk more about it later. 

For now, he sheds his underwear. Takes her hand in his own and pulls her into the shower. They let the water cascade over them. 

There’s plenty of time to talk. 

For now, he just wants to hold her. 

He loves her. 

And he’ll spend the rest of his life proving it if he has to.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been forever since I’ve written a fic, and this is my first one in the Newsroom fandom. I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave kudos and comments!


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